


Mission Logs

by TeenageCriminalMastermind



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenageCriminalMastermind/pseuds/TeenageCriminalMastermind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of all the Ares missions so far, Ares III's mission logs would be the ones to remember."</p><p>A glance into the life of the Ares III crew after the dramatic rescue of Mark Watney, and what follows when he becomes pen pals with a certain SatCon engineer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was initially written as a slow burn Mark/Mindy fic, but I felt these two space nerds would be better off with some happiness and fun in their lives, so here I am.

**_He’d never realised how much he missed them._ **

As they crush him under the weight of their suits and their bodies, Mark realises how much he’s missed these five space nerds. Commander Lewis, in all her stoic glory, was now sobbing covertly with a rather motherly smile on her face - Mark wonders how much she’s mothered their trio of Beck, Johannsen and himself, scolding and berating, but also pampering her three temporary children, and how he’s never missed his mamma, thanks to her.

Vogel gives him a smile that has a hint of admiration to it, bundled with the respect he always accorded all of them.

Martinez looks at him with all cockiness and confidence gone, an incomprehensible expression on his face, and as the Air Force officer engulfs him in an embrace, he hears him whisper, “Thank God for you, buddy,” in a voice that’s almost choking, and Mark can’t stop the stray tears that escape him.

Beth, with her tiny frame and her personality that’s way larger than it, bless her, crushes him in a hug he imagines his little sister would give him, if he had one. She’s crying into his suit, and Mark finds himself comforting her, patting her head and back while her body shakes with sobs. She looks up, looking lost and scared and relieved, and he presses a kiss to her forehead to tell her that everything’s alright and yes, he’s back and no, he won’t leave her ever again.

When Beck hugs him, he breaks down, letting go of all his anger and worry and fear. Chris has been his anchor since high school, since the days of getting drunk and crashing cars, of football victories and playing hooky (and acing tests too - Mark and Chris were pretty good at that). The brunette looks at him, and they know neither needs to say anything. Mark can feel the rest of them move away, giving the two their space (he cringes at the mental pun) and after a good one minute, he decides that he’s had enough of Beck, and holding on any longer wouldn’t be helping Martinez’s gaydar.

“So…” he looks at the others - silence ensues.

“Go take a bath,” Beth sniffles, tossing a towel and a bottle of what suspiciously looks like unauthorized Loreal shampoo. Under the Commander’s stare, the small sysop wilts and looks down, mumbling something like “I knew I’d need it someday”.

The crew laughs, and Mark has to force himself to not cry again.

* * *

Mindy really needs to stop with that chocolate chip ice cream now.

She’s been eating for a non-stop fifteen minutes, crying and laughing and stuffing a spoon with a frequency of a mouthful and two sobs a minute. Mars still looks inviting, but she needs to remind herself that the Hab doesn’t have anyone now, and watching it like a stalker fangirl isn’t going to help anyone. Heck, her contract was going to expire in a month. _Well, it was fun while it lasted._

Chief Buccaneer Venkat- no, Director of Ares Operations Venkat Kapoor walks in and takes a look at the half-empty Ben and Jerry’s tub, her splotchy eyes and the TV that’s been running CNN for the past six hours.

“You need sleep, food and a direct chat with Watney.” She shakes her head vigorously at the last one, hair falling all out of place - _I really look like a mess right now, or a bunny that’s done cardio, Ben and Jerry’s and too much reading._ “At least sleep and food?” She has to nod to that one. Venkat smiles and turns around, shaking his head at the disarray, and Mindy makes a mental note to clear the room of all its hidden Hubba Bubba Crush Grape and Green Apple tape rolls. “Oh, by the way, your contract’s been renewed for the next five years - you’ll be heading the Mars Satellite Division now.”

It’s a good there’s nothing in her hands on within arm’s reach, else someone was going to get unintentionally injured.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a while for this chapter - I was trying to get creative with the emails.

Mark blesses Beth for the second time in the day.

Her illegal stash of cosmetics makes him smell almost normal, and that L'oreal shampoo really does wonders with the scraggly blonde mop that his hair is now. It’s a good thing normal shampoo is usable in space, because he really needed the “I’ve just rolled in a meadow full of perfume-quality flowers” treatment.

When he steps out, Martinez lets out a whistle, and he doesn’t understand how malnourished Mark could be appealing to a man with standards a million miles high. Beth frowns at him, snatching the empty bottle from his hands - _well, I have the pianist fingers now._

“Smelling good,” Martinez says casually, and Mark takes a casual bow of acknowledgement as Beck smiles roguishly. This prompts a dirty look from smol sysop, leading him to wonder whether Beck had finally gathered the guts. Martinez’s knowing look and waggling eyebrows confirm this, and another weird look gives Mark jitters, and also a weird sense of curiosity - _how must it be, a million miles high?_ He decides not to pursue that train of thought by seeing Beth’s glare. The computer pings, and Beth scoots over.

“Data dump’s here - we have… 45 _filtered emails_ for Space Pirate Watney, and one with the exact same header.”

“Okay… Who’s this awesome person?” He displaces Beth from her spot and pores over the mail. “Mindy Park, _space paparazzi and Hab-fetish voyeur_?”

“Last time I checked, she worked at Satcon, but this sounds more accurate.” Mark reads through the rest of the mail, and he wonders whether NASA really was giving them the liberty to discuss this or if a super-talented hacker had just gotten through to the comms division. He begins to read the mail.

_Ahoy, Space Pirate Watney!_

_As much as I wanted to go with an unconventional intro, I’ll have to start with the basics, else you’d be left wondering who this weird person with a penchant for quoting Tumblr memes is. I’m Mindy Park, space paparazzi and Hab-fetish voyeur (sorry if it sounds too weird, but this is me in my purest, distilled form) - I work with Satcon, earlier just as a lowly engineer (read - all night photo-booth operator) but now oversee the Mars Satellite constellation (read - photo booth chain manager, yay!). Since Director Kapoor (or should I say Chief Buccaneer of the Ares Ops) decided I need sleep, food and a direct chat with you, here I am, conducting the three in opposite order, of course._

_I’m pretty sure none of my email makes sense right now because I’m too busy drinking in my rapid promotion and the fact that I’m directly conversing with you_ ( _that's some good shit righ there, if I do say so myself),_ _so I apologize if I come across to you as permanently high on Redbull - I assure you that it not the case.  But enough about me now._

_I’ve been informed that Doctor Who and Gotham are your favourite shows (the 2010's were a great time for comic adaptations), Since I cannot mail you a Blu-Ray for the latest Star Wars, you’ll just have to wait out that one (But I’ll try sneaking in a torrent ;) )._

_Since I’m afraid of writing any further (I don’t know why I even put that in here, what sort of a miserable fucker am I?), I’ll end this mail and leave you to more fruitful pursuits. Hope to chat with you soon (if Venkat allows me after this mail, that is)._

_Mindy_

* * *

 

Mark is in splits when the mail ends, drawing Commander Lewis into the bay (filled with worry that maybe his extended stay on Mars has started to show its effects) with the rest of the crew. Johannsen is too busy laughing to answer the Commander’s questions, due to which everyone crowds around the screen, eager to see what the fuss was all about.

Five minutes later, the Hermes is shaking with laughter.

Mindy wakes up to 34 mails in her inbox, with one NOT being a request to forward the latest Acidalia Planitia images. Curious, she looks closely at the header and falls off the couch, laughing, and thankfully for her kitten BB-8 (he was previously called Crookshanks), avoiding the orange Calico so that the feline avoided death by squashing.

_Header - Ahoy, fellow mangy cur!_

_Hello Mindy_

_Sorry if the header was offensive (but hey, it was a Pirates of the Caribbean AND Harry Potter reference bundled into one, cut me some slack)._

_If I were there (and I assure you, I know you have a pretty face and even cooler personality), I would’ve asked for a date then and there - or, if that seemed way more stalkerish, your valuable company for the Red Sox game (Go Red Sox!)._

_Great to see someone else agrees with 2010's being the pinnacle of good comic adaptations!_ _And as for the new Star Wars (why will you not tell me the title? Tell me the title, o blonde oracle), I’d rather watch it back home when I’m not strapped to a sleeping bag or latching onto a laptop floating in space (You know torrents are illegal, and I don’t think NASA has anymore money left to spend on me)._

_I should stop putting so much in brackets (but then that’s the stuff I say quickly because I sound like a goddamn nerd because I am such a pathetic miserable nerd). Anyhow, to keep the mail trail going, I’d like to ask some potentially invasive questions (do point out if they are) -_

  * __What are your interests? I’d love to know those.__


  * _Favourite soccer team?_


  * _Favourite books?_


  * _Favourite movies?_


  * _Favourite fictional character?_


  * _Your tumblr username_


  * _Your AO3 username (and don’t even try to lie - I know you have an account there as well)_


  * _Your OTP and favourite ships (I am such a pathetic fucker)_


  * _Favourite bands?_


  * _And anything else you wish to tell me - I’m all yours (and no, not the way our esteemed pilot Capt. Rick Martinez might make it out to be)._



Mindy is gaping at the screen, silently shaking with laughter as her cat fixes a confused stare on its owner. While she would love to write back to him, the clock shows 9:30 am, and it’s a Monday morning, and what impression will the now head of the SatCon Mars Division make by being late on her first day?


	3. Author's Note

**Hello,**

**I know, I know, I'm a shitty author, but have no fear, Mark Watney the Muse is here! I'll soon be back with a new chapter - till then, stay tuned and if you will, kindly check in on the Ares III squad here just to check how they're doing.**

**Houston, over and out.**

**\- Mastermind (teenagecriminalmastermind)**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Nothing’s changed._ **

When Mindy walks into SatCon that day she hears are the same greetings of ‘Minderson’ and ‘sup Park’, apart from ‘Good Morning Mindy’. No “ma’am”s, no nothing.

And her job is basically still the same with the tacked on responsibility of managing similar poor souls occupying her old position. She goes back to her old desk, putting the new signboard in place of the old one. _Well, doesn’t that feel great - Mindy Park, SatCon Mars Division Head_ **.**

She is also incharge of the Ares 3 data dump now.

 _Well, unofficially,_ since Venkat hasn’t really given her an official license to do so, but he knows she isn’t the kind to censor anybody’s conversations out of propriety and the like. She trawls through her remaining mails, sending the images from Acidalia Planitia detailing the state of the leftover equipment while also passing across weather shots from the region for the Aerial Meteorology division. It is only during lunch that something even remotely different from her schedule happens.

She’s going through the images (again for the fifth time in the day, but hey, that’s her job) when her phone pings, signaling a text message or an email received.

It’s the latter, from Mark Watney.

_Ayyy!_

_How are you? I didn’t hear back - getting bored up here. Johannsen is sleeping (again, that nerd queen), Martinez is sexting with his wife, Beck’s reading his journals (purely medical and non sleazy, I can assure), Vogel’s watching videos of his cats and Commander Lewis… *shudders*  Words cannot describe the monstrosity that is disco music._

_So… hope I’m not disturbing you but like I said, bored. I hope you didn’t find my requests too intrusive. Hope to hear from you soon, pen pal. Or mail pal. Or ascii pal. Or radio-wave pal. Or… never mind (Quantum physics hath always been ye murky fielde)._

_Captain Blondebeard (well, not anymore, but still…)_

So it was no surprise that Venkat peeps in after watching her giggle away at her seat before typing off on her phone like a besotted high-school teen. “Hello, Mindy,” he says while drawing up a chair beside her - the little girl (she’ll always be little for a forty-eight year old man like him) gets startled by his entry, the phone tumbling to the ground in haste. _Thank God for carpets,_ he thinks, because iPhones very rarely survive hard landings.

“Well, Venkat-Mr Kapoor-sir, yeah?”

“Just wanted to see what you were up to.” Mindy nods, furiously tapping on the home button. “If you're answering to Watney, you don't exactly have to hide. It's part of your job. Besides, it's your lunch break - you can do whatever the heck you want at this time.” She gives him a look of defeat, then, smiling, goes back to her terminal. “Mindy, that includes eating.”

“Oh, yeah, food,” she says absentmindedly, leaving for the cafeteria, with Venkat walking back to his office, chuckling lightly. Once she's secured the day's special of dimsums, tsing hoi chicken and noodles (there was quite a rush, and a minor scuffle between two guys from the ISS team), she goes back to her mail, rapidly typing out a response once she's stuffed her mouth full of chicken and noodles.

_Hi Mark!_

_Well, I was pretty surprised at you replying (honestly, I thought you'd be creeped out as hell, unless you_ **_prefer_ ** _creeps, which is a wholly different case altogether). But I wasn't surprised by the reply (you're the Fonz guy, okay? This was expected)._

_Okay, so in order requested -_

  * __My interests - well I love sleeping, reading, tumblr, making lame jokes and shitty memes, baking, and hugging my kitten (because I don’t want to bake_ ** _and_** _hug my kitten).__


  * _Bayern Munich (I know Vogel’s cheering somewhere, reading this as he exults over you Chelsea trash - and Beck’s sister told me that. Plebeians.)_


  * _Hmm… Harry Potter, Alex Rider Artemis Fowl, Percy Jackson series, The Catcher In The Rye, To Kill A Mockingbird (I’ll show my library for a proper answer)_


  * _Star Wars, Star Trek (the Zach Quinto ones, okay?), The Imitation Game, Zombieland (so what if it’s dumb?), Inglorious Basterds, Fight Club, and again, so on… (I'm hanging on to my teenage loves, like any self-respecting nerd)_


  * _Damn… This is brutal - Mark, y u do dis? I guess I’m gonna have to go with Alex Rider and Artemis Fowl (Guys from across the pond with negative chill) - oh, and Clark Kent, Luke Skywalker, Pavel Chekhov, Leia Organa, the entire Batfam, Lex Luthor, Diana Prince (my queen), Nico di Angelo, etc etc._


  * _spaceacetodds (is loving Jason Todd a crime? If so, I plead guilty)_


  * _Again, spaceacetodds_


  * _OTP - Well, Clois is endgame, we all know it. But Han x Leia for the ultimate OTP. Plus, Mara Jade x Luke and Satine x Obi-Wan. Obikin and SuperBat are my guilty pleasure (go ahead, kink shame me)_


  * _Queen, Led Zeppelin, Coldplay, Imagine Dragons, Pink Floyd and 21 Pilots (I’m an old rock girl). BONUS - David Bowie (he wasn't a band, but boy, could he be one)._


  * _I hope you aren’t weirded out yet. That’s it - Park out (even though you park_ ** _in_** _a vehicle geddit? Geddit?)_



 

_May The Force Be With You,_

_Mindy_

Before she can berate herself over her stupidity and edit the mail, she hits ‘send’ - _I have to learn to live with my decisions_.

* * *

 

**_Mark had fallen asleep to the Beatles._ **

Somewhere in the middle of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ comes the data dump, and Beck takes over mail duty for the day, Johannsen still dozing in a corner.

“Mark, it’s your pen pal,” he calls out. “It’s Mindy, Hab fetish voyeur,” he adds, a little louder this time, and somehow Hab-fetish voyeur registers faster than his name and Mark shuffles to the laptop, displacing Beck with a casual nudge to take his seat.

“How the fuck can she like Bayern Munich?”

Of all the thoughts that could’ve come with the mail, this is the first to strike him, and he can hear Vogel’s smug “I told you so” from across the hall. _Damn Germans._

He scowls at the Vogel prediction, laughs along with the kitten-grammar pun, laughs even more at the shitty ‘Park out’ pun (he’s seen her puns, and she’s capable of better) and all-in-all smiles a proper grin after he first arrived on the Hermes. Beck thinks he can’t see him, but Mark notices the motherly smile his best friend shoots him as he watches him read the dispatch.

When he’s scheduled for his ‘nightly’ sleep of 8 hours, Mark retires to his bunk. He’s well and through and in the throes of deep sleep when the Ares jolts a little, dislodging him from his bunk and sending him tumbling down.

 _Beep beep beep - oxygen level critical. Oxygen level critical. Hab breach - pressure critical._ He feels his throat close up, his breathing turn shallow. The darkness and the light sifting through it makes his heart hammer like a hummingbird’s, panic overtaking every sense.

“Mark? Mark? Mark! Wake up! WAKE UP!” He looks around wildly to see Beck in an old Johns Hopkins T-Shirt, shaking him by the shoulders while Martinez and Vogel hoist him up, Alex passing him a small glass filled with water. Mark slowly sips the liquid, Beck rubbing his back while Beth and the commander drape a blanket over him. No words are exchanged as the crew silently comforts him, and even though they’re trying their best, he can feel the helplessness in the air.

“Guys, go off to sleep - I’ll be fine, I promise. Becky’s here to take care of me,” he jokes as Beck takes back his position on his bunk, watching him with utter concern. “Seriously guys, sleep. Go and get a good night’s rest.”

With humour and optimism as his armour, Mark tries to recollect the good memories of the day, slowly smiling a little as Mindy’s words come back to him. As he drifts back to sleep, he realises he’s hit another first - he’s the first person to make a new friend in space.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just feeling like it, so here's another update. Mostly filler, because I really can't think of much right now.

**_He seems way too eager, according to Martinez._ **

The Latino was quick to point out that Mark seems overly enthusiastic on answering Mindy -  _ you don’t want to creep the girl out before a first date, Watney _ **,** and Mark insists it isn’t that no, there is no way he could be ‘smitten’ with the SatCon engineer without having met her. 

“I fell in love with Helena over a series of letters in three months,” Alex adds, rather unhelpfully, Mark would like to add, as Martinez wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Vogel, what are you - a character straight out of Goethe or Fitzgerald?” 

“Mark, those are two VERY different writers,” Johannsen interrupts his tirade, looking at him with a scandalised expression. He still plows on, scowling at his crewmates, is fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

“Guys, I’ve just been e-mailing Mindy for six days. Not a big deal, okay?”

“How long did it take before you asked out the Harvard transfer Amy, Mark?” Chris interjects, a smirk on his face, and Mark feels like telling the captain about what happened in the gym last night ( _ on the bench press bench? Really, Beck? _ ). 

“A month, so?”

“You claimed you were madly in love with Amy until she dumped you for Nicholas -.”

“She hated botany, okay? Too absorbed in Proust!”

“So were you - you guys flirted in fucking riddles. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being a literary and pop nerd.”

“Guilty as charged - in my defence, I am a quizzer.” Martinez jumps into the conversation, mocking a horrified look. “Watney and riddles? Beck, are you high on Benadryl?”

“Can I get the station please?” Commander Lewis walks in, “Robert wants to show me Abigail’s physics project that she reached the Intel Science Fair state finals with.” At that, the crew disperses, Mark quickly logging out of his account and continuing his mail on his laptop. 

_ Sup! _

_ Martinez’s being a dick - I’m not Vogel, okay, I can’t just fall in love with someone over a series of letters! And what’s worse, the rest of the crew backs the douchebag, so I’m alone, and I need backup. _

_ Watcha say, first matey? Can I expect help, or am I up against the crew again? _

_ Anyhow, how are Venkat and Mitch treating you? All A-okay? Anyone being an ass to you? I hope it’s not Teddy again, and I know Annie wouldn’t do that - she likes you too much for that, Minderson.  _

_ BTW, there’s this box from the Taiyang Shen that’s still unopened. Says I should open it on my birthday, which is basically a day from now. So, will you tell me what’s in it or do I have to be a patient birthday boy? _

_ Hope to hear from you super soon (with some encouragement in tow, please, these people are being super mean to me) _

_ Mark _

_ P.S. The cake is a lie (or at least Beck saying there’s one is) _

He saves the draft, hoping to send it first thing after dinner. The rest of the day passes in science experiments and observations, and Mark is busy working on a thesis on the spinach they’re growing on board the Hermes to check for effect of low gravity on mineral absorption in plants. Once dinner passes by and everyone is doing their own thing, Mark heads off to the computer, logging in to his account and hitting ‘send’ on the draft that has been languishing in his account for the past nine hours. 

He won’t admit it, but Mark does feel that perhaps Rick was right about the overeager thing.

* * *

 

**_MIndy feels like Venkat really needs an additional hobby._ **

Seriously, all the director of Ares Operations does in his free time is play Super Sharp or Frozen Free fall on his phone. He claims his kids forced him too, but no father would reach level 85 in five days and curse vehemently under his breath when he ran out of hearts and Elsa boosters just because his kids told him to.

“You can’t sell that bullshit to me, Venkat,” she replies, cropping the latest shots from the poles, zooming in onto the requested shots of Planum Boreum. It’s 8 pm, and Mindy’s on the night shift today and Venkat needs to stay till ten because Teddy has a super-urgent meeting till nine thirty and he NEEDS to meet Venkat after that because Ares III, that’s why. “You know you love it, I know you love it, we all know you love it.” He contemplates retaliating for a moment, and a triumphant grin is on his face when he starts, but is rudely interrupted by a loud ping on Mindy’s phone.

She takes a cursory look at the screen, grinning. Venkat leans over, reads the header and gives her a pointed look. “How old are the two of you?”

“Young enough to still make lame memes.” Her grin is infectious, and Venkat tries to keep a straight face at the expression (and magnificently fails, Mindy notes).

“The cake is a lie? Seriously?”

“Hey, blame Mark, not me.” She opens the mail, Venkat hesitating a bit before Mindy gives him the go-ahead, and the two huddle over the tiny screen as they read Watney’s latest status report, Mindy laughing lightly at the pleading tone in the last few lines.

* * *

 

**_For all her astuteness, Venkat thinks Mindy can be really oblivious if she wants to be._ **

He gives a her a cursory glance, reaffirming the small notion he’d been nursing for a while. It was certain that Mark had easily befriended the SatCon engineer, but the email he had just read reflected a certain something more, even if it was going unnoticed by the involved parties. 

Mindy is certainly blissfully unaware of it, and even though Venkat doesn’t want to play matchmaker, he feels that Mark could probably use someone like Mindy for a companion -  _ she didn’t introduce herself as the person who saved Mark Watney by spotting him even when she’d all the bloody right to _ . He just doesn’t want it to be out of gratitude or debt. 

_ Wow - am I getting sentimental. _

Her phone pings again, Mark again, but this time with a rather sober header.

Header -  _ A Question, Miss Park… _

_ Hi Mindy, _

_ We’ve been chatting all this while and while I’ve gotten to know so much about you, I have been wondering - who exactly are you, and what do you do at SatCon? _

_ I know I could’ve waited ten more months for an answer to this, but I also know I couldn’t have waited three hundred and six days longer. So, Mindy Park… (*drumroll*) _

_ Who are you? (Cue dramatic space noises) _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Mark Watney _

“…And what do I tell him?” She looks up at him, her expression akin to a deer in the headlights. “This is something I was not prepared for.”

“Then what was your plan?” 

“More like to randomly spring this information upon him later at the Johnson Space Center when he was getting a glass of water or something like that - ‘Hey Mark, I was just sitting at the table when I saw a moved rover and guessed you weren’t dead’.”  _ Just when I thought she was catching up _ .

“Just don’t sell yourself short, Mindy - you did a great job, and you should be proud of it.” Venkat takes a quick glance at his watch - he still has an hour to kill.  Deciding he needs a dinner and Mindy her space, he leaves her to make the decision.  _ I just hope it isn’t self-deprecating.  _ Which it probably will be, but there isn’t much he can do about it, can he?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For someone who's just escaped his biggest nightmare, Mark sure as hell cannot be completely normal, and this is something I really wanted to stress on, so here we go.

**_He really has a hard time pretending to be so cheerful._ **

The first few days came easy, and Mark laughs and plays along with the crew just fine, until the week ends, and now he feels like he’s suffocating, drowning in the memories of the hell he has just escaped.

He’s sitting on his bunk, laughing to himself as he remembers the ache is his back is brought on from the sleeping in the rover. But it’s over now, and he’s in the Hermes - this soft, sweet haven of safety and comfort and warmth and the fact that  _ it’s not fucking Mars. _

He often smiles to himself at the fact that he isn’t on Mars anymore, but then he also looks out of the Hermes deck, staring at the receding dot that is Mars, and panic and fear floods him again, drowning out reason and hope and a will to live altogether. It is then when he wishes to sneak into the med bay and just, maybe just, sneak out a bottle of Valium and Vicodin so that he can ease the pain, the searing, aching hole that that hellish landscape has left in him. 

But Beck says no, and Beck says so many things he doesn’t want to hear.

_ Don’t eat so much, Mark, victims of starvation can die by overfeeding _ , and  _ oh Mark, I can’t let you have all that Vicodin because you’re addicted as it is and I can’t let my best friend die due to an overdose _ and  _ no Mark, you can’t sleep alone because after those flashbacks I’m scared you’ll hurt yourself and die _ and  _ Mark, I’m so scared for you, so don’t do this and this and this and we’ll be fine, because I understand and I know what’s best _ . 

But there are things Beck doesn’t understand, and he certainly doesn’t know what’s best for him right now, because if he did, he would just let him escape his misery, even if it meant death - but Mark thinks of the crew and feels immeasurable shame because the crew did so much for him by postponing seeing their families again by 533 days and coming back for him even if meant they could possibly die as well. So many things could go wrong, but they stood for him and stood by him.  _ It isn’t their business to help me through my nightmares _ but they think it is, and that should make all the difference to him, shouldn’t it?

It does, but it also doesn’t erase the bone-deep scars that Mars has left on him, and that is the one thing they will never be able to help him with.

He trudges over to the rec room, nicking Beck’s open laptop (the owner safely asleep by Mark’s bunk) and floats back quickly so that Beck doesn’t notice his absence. Rummaging through his stuff, he finds a pair of headphones which he plugs into the laptop, rifling through the massive playlist that his friend possesses. 900 days before, this very act would have been impossible due to the various ‘privacy concerns’ of the crew, but now, they let him do whatever he pleases because  _ Mark is delicate _ and  _ he needs familiarity _ and henceforth should be allowed to do whatever the fuck he pleases.

Sia is an artist he is familiar with, but never gave much thought to, his yesteryears were filled with laughter and happiness and a warmth characteristic to highschool chick-flicks. So when he finds ‘Alive’ by this artist on the doctor’s laptop, he decides to finally give a shot to the now 70-something’s music.

The simple refrain of “I’m still breathing, I’m alive” gets him, and his body begins to shake violently, fists clenched, nails digging into his palm and he’s crying for all he’s worth because  **_god fucking dammit he’s still breathing, he’s alive and he’s alive and that fucking hellhole where demons go to die took all it could yet he’s still alive, it took and took and took and it took Mark’s sanity and personality and sense of safety and self and nearly took his life too but fuck it he’s alive and he beat it and that’s all that fucking matters because he beat it, he’s alive_ ** and he’s weeping and he can hear footsteps, first receding, then rushing towards him.

He watches Martinez rip the laptop away from him, sees Johannssen stand helplessly. He sees the commander stand across him, stricken and in pain, like this is something she should be suffering but good god no, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy, forget Commander Lewis. Beck’s arms are wrapped around him, and his best friend is quietly crying, and he hasn’t cried like this since his father died. Vogel’s grief is etched on his face, but so is understanding, because something in that man’s face tells him that he is familiar with this feeling.

He expects Chris to admonish him, but all the doctor does is look at him with understanding and pain, like he still loves the broken mess that Mark Watney is now and wishes he could take all his pain. “Mark, you’re alive, and you didn’t let that thing win,” Johannssen whispers fiercely, her small frame crushing him for what it’s worth and  **_this_ ** , this is what really matters.

* * *

 

**_Well, this is odd._ **

Mindy has not received a single mail from Mark in the past one week, and for a man who sends her hourly dispatches of life aboard the Hermes, this surely is troubling. 

So is Venkat’s expression when he walks by, the thin file in his hand looking it weighs a ton by the way the man carries it. “Venkat,” she calls out, walking over to the bespectacled man. “Hey, Mindy,” he replies, still walking on. She follows him to his office, where he opens the door for them to be greeted by Dr Shields, Teddy Sanders and Annie Montrose, all looking worse for the wear.

“Have you received any mails from Watney?” Is what he asks. She shakes her head, beginning to speak, but is cut short by Teddy. 

“Dr. Shields, what should we make of this?” The aforementioned doctor turns to Mindy, a pen ready in hand.

“Mindy, how long has it been since Mark’s last mail?”

“A week, Dr. Shields, and he hasn’t replied to any intermediate mails sent as well.” She can feel that something is wrong, as if the expressions on their faces weren’t proof enough.

“And has he mentioned anything even mildly disturbing in his mails, something that comes across as off to you, something that’s not him?” She shakes her head.

“He’s been pretty upbeat, actually - I was pretty surprised, what with the PTSD that will set in and all.” The lady shares a look with Venkat, jotting it down.

“What did the crew say, Venkat?” The man sighs, rubbing his temple as he begins. “Well, they said that Mark was fine for the first week, but his emotional and mental health has deteriorated from six days after his arrival on the Hermes. He’s having frequent flashbacks and often loiters around the life-support system, doing routine checks like he was in the Hab.” He looks genuinely worried, much like a father, and Mindy feels like her heart is falling. 

“He’s stable but extremely disturbed, Dr Beck reports, and adds that if he’s personally feeling like he’s experiencing mental instability, he is either not communicating that with the crew or is unable to distinguish between what is healthy for him and not anymore. He suspects the latter, and says that Mark is displaying what Commander Lewis terms ‘Prisoner of War behaviour’.”

The doctor’s expressions fill Mindy with pain, and even though she hasn’t seen the man ever in the flesh, she can feel a searing ache in her chest, as if his suffering was a part of her too. Teddy looks at her dismissively, like she’s an intruder, a guest overstaying her welcome.

“You should be going, Miss Park,” he replies, seeing the look on her face, and she heads for the door, wondering whether it was time to establish contact with the rest of the crew,  _ because I just can’t see the man who came back from hell fall to a million pieces. _

As she composes her mail to Commander, Mindy wonders whether he’ll ever truly left Mars and it’s horrors behind, and there is only so much she can do as someone he’s just pen pals with, a stranger he’s never met.

_ Well, I’ll give my goddamn best. _

**Author's Note:**

> Read and comment!


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